Moonlight Sonata
by DreamThief
Summary: PG-13 for mild language. Jill, Chris and Claire wait for the others to arrive in a house near Paris. And when they get there... (Completed.)
1. Sonata

A/N: This takes place after Code: Veronica. Jill, Chris and Claire are staying together in an old house outside of Paris, waiting for the others to arrive. The Moonlight Sonata is a beautiful piece of music, and it's actually how I started playing Resident Evil, so it has sentimental value for me. ^_^ 

Please review with any comments you might have, and enjoy the story!

Had some difficulty uploading the last few chapters (goddamned computer!), so I reposted the whole story, and decided to redo the last few chapters while I was at it, go through them for typos and the like. (Nothing worse than reading a fic and stumbling on twenty misspellings and bad punctuation, right?) And now, here they are! Admittedly, they probably _still_ have typos, but the worst of 'em are gone.

Moonlight Sonata 

      Jill walked into the drawing room, the floorboards beneath her feet creaking out a symphony. A thin Oriental carpet covered the wood, but other than that the room was pretty much empty. There was an aging grand piano in one corner, black and sleek in the fading light. The tall windows on the opposite wall showed nothing but silent woods and falling snow. The room was quiet and peaceful, but Jill's mind was not at rest.

      She stepped towards the piano, each step making unearthly groaning noises. The bench was dusty, and she brushed off the coat of grime before taking a seat. Jill was six when she first started to play the piano, and she'd fallen completely in love. The black-and-white keys seemed to beckon and call, but she resisted as best she could. How long had it been since she'd last been brought to this room…? An hour? Two?

      Playing the piano soothed her angry soul, partly because she loved to play, but mostly because she had to concentrate and work to make the notes flow together. She placed her hands in their starting positions and gently tapped out the opening to "Für Elise". No, that wasn't right – she always screwed up those opening notes…

      She tried again, and then once more, but to no avail. The notes came out warped and angry, not sweet and gentle, as they were meant to be. Frustrated, she turned and stared defiantly out the window. So much snow…Jill hadn't stayed in Raccoon City long enough to see a Midwest winter, and before Raccoon she'd lived in the southwest, where it never really snowed much. The only time she'd seen it was a trip up to the mountains in Colorado. It made everything so pure, so pretty…and then it went away. Everything beautiful melted away, eventually. Jill knew all about that.

      She turned back to the piano and, through eyes blurred by tears, played the opening to one of Beethoven's masterpieces, "Moonlight Sonata". It always came to this. Always. Jill would start out with something smooth and comforting, and it would end up blurring into the Sonata. She wasn't quite sure why, really – she'd love the piece as child, adored it, and learned it by heart. She still knew it now, and didn't need the aid of sheet music. Jill was always better at playing by ear.

      But when she'd played it at the Spencer Estate, it had taken on new meaning. It was now less of a childhood memory and more of an outlandish nightmare, played over and over again until Jill felt as if she'd break down and die if she heard it one more time…but she always played it. Always.

      Now it stood for much, much more than laughter and games of stickball in the street. It was an ode, an ode to hate, a prelude to a nightmare, a concerto for violence…a sonata. An endless, beautiful, despairing sonata…

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      Chris Redfield, in the parlor next to the drawing room, could hear Jill in the room nearby. "Für Elise". He shook his head and closed his eyes. She always butchered those first notes. The music stopped and Chris waited for it to start again. It might take a few minutes, but she'd play again. And Chris knew exactly what Jill would play.

      He didn't know why, but she always resorted to the "Moonlight Sonata" in the end. As if on cue, the first dreary notes of the Sonata poured out from the keys of the piano next door. He set down the pen he was clutching in his hand and glanced towards the window seat, where his sister Claire sat. She spoke, suddenly, breaking the silence.

      "She's playing again…"

      Chris looked at her closely. Ever since they'd returned from Antarctica, she'd been quieter than he'd ever seen Claire. It just wasn't like her to be this resigned, this…submissive, almost. Her face looked pale in the white light reflecting off the snow outside. France was colder than any of them had expected, but they were doing better than could be expected. Leon, Sherry, Carlos, Rebecca and Barry would be arriving soon, and then, Chris hoped, Claire would cheer up. They'd have a belated Christmas party, and Leon would flirt with her and Sherry would be cute and kiddy and bring out her maternal side. He hoped it would be enough, and even though it hurt that he couldn't help her, he knew that what he couldn't do, the others could. He and Claire were close, but some things even a brother couldn't fix.

      Standing, he stretched out his aching back and cracked his neck. Claire didn't even turn from the window. In the other room, the Sonata was getting louder, more emotional. Chris licked his lips. Maybe he should go check on her…he decided not to. Last time, she'd been crying, and to Chris, crying was a very personal thing. He didn't want to interrupt her.

      So instead, he walked over to Claire and rested his hand on her shoulder. She jumped a little, and looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide and fearful. She recognized her brother, and the fear drained out of her eyes. A weak smile tried to crawl across her face, but ultimately failed.

      "You want some hot chocolate, Claire? I was gonna go make some. I could make it with marshmallows, like when we were little." He grinned at her.

      "Yeah," she replied. Her voice broke a little, but didn't sound too terribly bad. "I remember…"

      "We'd come in from a snowball fight, and drink it at the table."

      "You'd always let me win, Chris. You're such a good brother." She turned back to the window. "Such a good brother," she repeated. Chris stood still, unsure of what to do. Jill's mournful tune continued on. Christ, would she ever stop playing…!?

      "Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes."

      "Wait…" Chris hesitated. "Chris…"

      "Yeah?"

      "…Never mind." Chris waited a few minutes more, and then left the room. The kitchen was down the stairs and in the other wing. It was dark and cold when he stepped in – the heat only worked on the bottom floor one out of every ten times. After a moment's deliberation, Chris made a third cup of rich chocolate for Jill, but, as always, he made Claire's special. She liked her hot chocolate with whipped cream and mint and marshmallows, and that's exactly how he made it. He knew about Steve, and wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but he was sure that it was the cause of Claire's depression. He wished they could chance taking her to a real doctor for medication, but it was still too dangerous. In a few months, though, things would be different.

      Until then, he would just have to be there for her, and make sure she knew he loved her. It took a few minutes to heat up the mugs of steaming chocolate, and then Chris started to trudge back up the freezing stairs to the warm, cozy parlor. As a matter of fact, those corridors were reminiscent of the Spencer Mansion…his face hardened and he forced himself to think of other things.

What had happened was over, and they were taking Umbrella down. That was all that mattered now.

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      Claire sighed as she heard Chris leave. He left the door open, and a chilly draft from the belly of the house slithered into the room. She shivered, and looked at the door. Was it worth getting up to close it…? No. It wasn't worth it.

      She turned back to the window. As a little kid she'd loved the snow, loved to play in it and lay in its virgin white masses, but now…what had changed? What was so different that she couldn't even enjoy the simple pleasure of making a snow angel? It wasn't Steve. It wasn't, she was sure. He might be part of it – but not all. Steve was a great guy, attractive, nice, considerate, but she didn't love him. She knew that now, and was resigned to it. She mourned his loss as a friend mourns another, but nothing more.

      Claire loved Leon.

      And that was what was irking her. She knew about Ada, as much as Leon had told her in the dingy hotel a few miles south of the smoldering ruins of Raccoon City, and knew that Leon had liked Ada…or had he loved her? Claire didn't know. But Leon would be arriving soon, and she could ask him, and if he didn't love the Umbrella spy, it would be safe to pour out her soul to him. If she was rejected, it didn't matter. She still had Umbrella to worry about, and until Steve's restless soul had its revenge, she wouldn't think about dying. It was her duty to make Umbrella pay, her duty as a survivor.

      Restlessly, she shifted position. A flicker of movement in a tree nearby caught her eye. She turned slowly, and saw a squirrel race up the tree and leap onto a branch. Why wasn't it in hibernation, or whatever cute little forest animals did in the winter? Claire pressed her forehead up against the windowpane. The glass was cool against the warm flesh of her face, cool enough to send a shiver down her spine, but she didn't mind. It was soothing, in a way.

      The piano from the drawing room shifted from the original form of the "Moonlight Sonata" to the presto agitato form. The music became angrier, more sullen. Claire snorted, irritated. Why was she always playing that goddamned song? It was beautiful, yeah, but it was also getting old, fast. It grated on one's nerves to hear it repeated, day in and day out. And hearing Jill play anything else was vexing, because in the middle of the song she'd suddenly slip back into the "Moonlight Sonata". The echoes in the house made it impossible to avoid the piano's notes in any of the rooms on the floor, and the third and first floors had dysfunctional heating. So it was either freeze in blessed silence, or stay warm and comfortable with the hellish sonata in the background.

      Claire watched the squirrel a little more. It chattered a little – Claire could see its mouth working, but heard no sound – and raced back down the tree, to disappear into the forest. White, powdery snowflakes were still falling from the sky, streaked gold and grey as the sun fell below the horizon. Claire watched it go, and when it was gone, watched the snow fall to the floor below.

      She grew bored after a minute or so, and swung her legs over the edge of the window seat, stretching out her long, slender limbs. Claire stood and walked over to the table where Chris had sat until a few minutes ago. A piece of paper, completely blank, and an uncapped ballpoint pen lay on the table. Near it, an envelope and some French stamps sat unobtrusively.

      Claire stopped for a moment and thought – really, really thought – about her situation. She could die. Umbrella could find them at any minute, and kill them all. Did she want to die like this, all sad and bitter inside? Not really. And all the dead she'd encountered wouldn't want her to, either, except maybe Chief Irons, but he was crazy, and didn't really count. A smile, slow and easy, crossed her face, as she picked up the pen on the table and scratched out a note to Chris. Then, without a sound, she left the room.

      And still, the endless sonata played on…


	2. Out in the Snow

A/N: Nothing much to say, or anything special to add. So I'll just talk for a bit. It would seem that Jill is feeling a little under the weather, but can Chris cheer her up? And what's this crazy idea of Claire's?****

Chapter 2

      Outside, the moon was starting to show it pale and waxy face, and dark clouds lingered on the skyline. Silvery light cast a heavenly glow on cobalt blue ice and slopes of glittering snow. It made everything seem a little unreal, Claire thought as she stood in the backyard of the run-down manor she was staying in. A bird fountain, the water frozen over, stood to one side, and a stack of rotting wood to the other. The scent hinted at other odors, more revolting and vile ones, but Claire didn't think of those things.

      Instead, she walked to a small, open area near the birdbath, the snow crunching beneath her boots. Then she kneeled on the frosty ground and started to make a snow fort. She'd left Chris a note telling him where she'd be, and Claire had no doubts whatsoever that he'd appear as soon as he could. It was stupid, she knew, to come out at night in such light clothing, but once she'd felt the frigid air caressing her cheeks, she knew it was a good idea.

      Without warning, she laughed out loud, for no reason at all. It seemed like the right thing to do, in that pleasant, chilly silence that pervaded through the woods that evening. A sharp, lancing pain shot through her hand, and she glanced down at it. A rock had cut her. Claire checked the wound and decided that it wasn't too bad, and she could wait to bandage it later. She laughed again when she noticed she had no mittens or gloves on. Chris would kill her. When Claire was little, she'd go outside without a coat or boots or mittens or hat or anything, and every time, Chris would stomp outside and bawl her out, all the while thrusting various cold-weather garments onto her appendages. Would he dare to do it now?

      A thin trickle of blood ran out onto the ground, staining it crimson. Claire hardly noticed as she packed more snow and thrust it into place. She had to get a head start, or Chris would blow her out of the water. Or maybe he wouldn't. He might still be soft-hearted enough to let her win…

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      Chris was shocked to find the parlor empty. At first, he'd been terrified that Claire had jumped out the window or something, but further investigation brought the slip of paper to his attention. His name, in Claire's blocky print, was written boldly at the top. The note went on to say that if he had the guts, he could go out and fight her one-on-one in the snow. But if he was too chicken…

      The note died off then, and Claire had signed it. Chris frowned. He slammed the mugs down onto the table, thick brown liquid splashing everywhere, and practically ran out of the room. He haphazardly threw on a jacket and some gloves, and jammed his feet into his boots. He was on the edge of the top of the stairs when he halted, thinking. Knowing Claire, she wasn't wearing any mittens…or a coat, for that matter! Glaring at Claire's irritating lack of sense, he barged into her room and rooted around in the closet a little bit. Having located a pair of thick, wooly mittens and some furry white earmuffs (although a winter jacket was nowhere to be found; Chris figured she must have worn it after all) and headed downstairs.

      Outside, the wintry night was quiet, except…ragged breathing was coming from across the snowy lawn. Chris smiled and raced over to Claire's rapidly growing snow fort, complete with a stock of snowball ammunition. She was so involved in her work, she didn't hear him approaching. He leaned over and gently tapped her shoulder. With a impish grin, she looked up at him.

      He smiled back. She looked so happy…! Chris didn't want to say anything uncomfortable to ruin the moment, so he chose his words carefully.

      "Read your note, little sister," he said, sneering.

      "Are you taking me up on my challenge?"

      "You bet. There's no way you can beat me."

      "Watch out, Chris, or I'll kick your ass. Your little sister isn't so little any more, you know," Claire added, her grey eyes twinkling.

      She was too right. Claire wasn't so little now. But there was a plus side to that. "If you don't put these on," he said, offering the brown wool mittens, "I'll do more than just kick your ass, Claire…I'll tickle you, and you know I can." Claire laughed, a real, honest-to-goodness laugh, and took the mittens, stuffing her hands into them. "And this," he continued, placing the furry earmuffs over her head.

      "You've got to be kidding. These things are so…ugly." She looked up at him pleadingly. "Please don't make me wear them."

      Chris shook his head and folded his arms. "Wear them. I insist." Shrugging in acceptance, Claire made sure the earmuffs were firmly secured and looked up at him, snowflakes catching on her long, thick black lashes.

      "Okay." She reached into her fort and withdrew a huge snowball. "Now, I'll give you a head start. Five seconds, alright?"

      Chris nodded and sprinted away. Six seconds later – he counted – a snowball slammed against the back of his knee as he sped away. Brother and sister continued to lob freezing projectiles at each other for several minutes, before Chris admitted defeat (while discreetly hiding his own stash of snowballs) and Claire gratefully accepted. They attempted to make a snowman, but were lacking in eyes and nose.

      "How 'bout this: I'll go inside and get a carrot and some radishes from the salads we had last night, and you find some rocks for the buttons. Okay?" Claire's idea seemed good enough, and Chris agreed to let her go in the house. While he dug through a few feet of snow for pebbles, Claire stepped through the back door into the relative warmth of the house. The kitchen was empty, and as Claire upended a discarded salad in the fridge, a few random notes drifted down from the floor above. Claire hesitated, melted water dripping from the lining of her coat. So Jill was still up there, playing her song…

      An icy cold rivulet of water trickled down her back, jolting her to the kitchen again. She bit her lip and pulled a carrot from a plastic bag and two bright, purplish red radishes from a covered plate. After dumping the rest of the vegetables in the trash (they were pretty far gone, anyway) Claire returned to the great outdoors. It was close to nine o' clock now, and the sky was a deep, velvety blue, studded with silver points of light. She made her way across the empty lawn, towards the snowman. He was rather large, and a row of coal-black stones adorned his pale chest.

      Chris stepped out of the forests nearby, looking pleased to see her. The carrot nose looked great, but the radishes made somewhat strange eyes.

      "It looks demonic," as Chris put it.

      Claire had to agree, especially since the eyes looked to be popping out of their sockets.

      Claire patted the snowman's thick hip and replied, "Maybe it'll scare away some of the woodland predators." Chris glanced at her, a skeptical look on his face, and was about to say something rude about the nature of those predators when he was interrupted. A window on the second floor opened and Jill Valentine stuck her head out.

      "What're you guys doing out there? It's almost nine thirty! You should come in before you catch pneumonia or something," she said, her voice taking on a tone incredibly like that of the Redfield siblings' parents.

      "Come on, Jill," Chris replied, "you should come out here, too. It's a beautiful night!"

      Jill stared at him from the windowsill. It was a beautiful night, but still…it might not be safe… "I don't think I will."

      "Please, Jill? We promise, it'll be fun!" It was the lovely Claire speaking, Jill noticed. Funny. Up until now Claire had always been so sad. The first thing you noticed about Claire was her eyes. They were huge, luminous pools of steely blue-gray, fringed with curling black lashes. They looked just like Chris's. Maybe it was a Redfield trait.

      "Jill, come on! You'll love it!" Jill looked at the still night again, and at the moon in the sky. Moonlight Sonata…

      "Alright. I'll be down in a few minutes." She disappeared, and the window slammed shut.

      Chris and Claire looked at each other, astonished. She'd given in awfully quick…

      "Hey," Chris whispered, excited, "let's ambush her when she steps out!" Claire grinned and laughed.

      "I'll work on making some more snowballs. You should, too," she advised him and ran towards the corner of the house nearest the back door. He didn't tell her that he already had twenty or so stacked in neat order near the basement window.

      Jill, of course, was expecting something of the kind. She stepped outside, braced for a blast of cold snow to hit her from two directions. But nothing came. Looking around suspiciously, she realized that Chris and Claire were nowhere to be seen. Damn those shadows, she thought to herself. They could hide a wooly mammoth from view!

      After three more steps, Jill was fairly sure that the siblings were simply waiting for the perfect time to ambush her. Moments later, a rain of snowballs smacked into her from both sides. She gasped – the snow was a hell of a lot colder than she remembered! A lilting, girlish laugh rang out from her left, and Jill stooped, scooping up a handful of snow as she did so.

      Without waiting to see if her aim was correct, she hurled it as hard as she could in the direction of the laugh. A startled, rapid intake of breath rewarded her efforts, and with a grim smile, Jill packed another snowball. She caught sight of Claire dashing for the security of a crumbling birdbath and chucked the ball at her. It missed, but exploded on the ground nearby. Snow flew in all directions. Jill growled in frustration and made another snowball when a thought occurred to her, a bit too late. Where was Chris?

      "Big brother to the rescue," a low voice muttered in her ear.

      Speak of the devil, Jill thought, and attempted to flee, but Chris caught her around the waist, laughed, and shoved a handful of snow down the back of her shirt. She shrieked and writhed in his arms. He dropped her and ran. Jill landed on hands and knees, gasping for breath. Instantly, she jumped to her feet and, shaking out the snow from her shirt, she snarled at Chris and Claire,

      "You better watch your backs, you two, 'cause The Jill is coming after you…!"

      She was quickly silenced by a snowball to the face.

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      "Well," Claire said, "that was fun."

      Jill brooded over her cup of tea – she'd rejected Chris's hot offering – and stared gloomily at her sodden socks, lying on the floor near the door leading to the hallway.

      "I only lost because I was outnumbered, you know."

      "It's okay, Jill. You don't have to justify your failure to me," Chris replied.

      "The statement was rhetorical, Chris. I didn't need that." He smiled that roguish smile that had doubtlessly brought women to their downfall and winked at her. The nerve of that man…!

      Claire, having seen this exchange, raised an eyebrow, but opted not to say anything. If Venus was doing her work here, than Claire herself need not interfere. Instead, she leaned back and took up her warm mug in numb hands. Even though it was somewhat cold down on the first floor, it required less effort to sit down at the table and drink something hot than to trudge upstairs and get into bed. So Claire sipped her hot chocolate. Chris had remembered how she liked it – with whipped cream on top, and a peppermint thrown in, and plenty of sticky marshmallows. The steam warmed her nose and she took a hefty gulp of it, and swallowed, feeling the heat trace a path to her belly.

      "I don't know about anyone else," she said, "but I'm going to bed." She yawned, covering her mouth with her free hand. "See you guys tomorrow." 

"Good night," Jill and Chris said together. Jill instantly glared at Chris, who smiled lazily back at her. She was still irritated about losing. She shouldn't have, though, because nobody won when the Redfield siblings worked as a team.

Claire stood and guzzled the remaining liquid in her cup before washing it out and leaving it near the sink to dry. Then she walked slowly up the stairs, feeling the blood start to work its way through her feet again. As she undressed and slid beneath the thick flannel blankets, it occurred to her that neither Jill nor Chris had come upstairs after her. She smiled, and fell asleep.

Downstairs, there was an uncomfortable silence after Claire had disappeared upstairs. Jill sipped her tea as Chris fiddled with a lock of his hair. Finally, he spoke.

"So, um, you feeling better?"

Jill's eyes snapped up to look at his face. Was Chris _blushing_? "What do you mean, feeling better? I was feeling fine before."

Chris shifted his butt in the chair. It was a very hard chair. "You, um, well, it sort of seemed that you, uh, were upset about something. Er…" His voice trailed off and he looked at her. Vivid blue eyes were boring into his brain from the other side of the table.

"I didn't realize you cared." The words sounded cold, and imperious. Chris swallowed.

"Of course I care, Jill. I've always cared about you." It was Jill's turn to blush. She pushed away from the table and, feeling awkward, stood.

"Oh. That's sweet. I'm going to bed now. Good night." And she rushed away from the place as if it was the root of all evil. Her footsteps faded away on the wooden stairs with their thin, threadbare carpeting. Chris groaned and clutched his head with his hands.

"I," he said with great articulation, "am the biggest ass on earth."


	3. Baking Gone Bad...?

A/N: An interlude before the gang arrives. For those of you who haven't read Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ (or just don't care much about it, either one works) the Queen Mab thing is an allusion to R&J. Mercutio, a cynic, says something about dreams being a bunch of crap, pretty much. I put the allusion in there because Claire feels the same way about dreams, and tries to brush them aside.

On a lighter note, this is just a short chapter – sorry 'bout that. Been pressed for time lately. Have fun reading it, and please review!

Chapter 3

      Before the sun started across the sky, as the moon was beginning to fade and the heavens were shifting to watery green and dull, sullen orange, a girl in a house on the outskirts of a forest dreamed a dream unlike any other, and the angry Queen Mab rode through her brain in a rage, painting those dreams with misery…

      _Claire was back at Raccoon, in a dark room with a high ceiling. It was blisteringly hot, and a faint bubbling noise came from the iron smelting pot a floor below the platform she was standing on. And a huge, hideous monstrosity stood before her, its blackened skin peeling off as she shot it with her Beretta. It barely took notice of Claire's assault and charged. She rolled to the side, but a second too late – the foot-long claws on Mr. X's mangled hand ripped a gouge in her bare, grimy thigh up to the middle of her hip, just below her red leather shorts._

_      Her hands, despite the gloves, were slick with sweat, and suddenly Claire was glad she'd given Sherry her biking vest. It would have made her hotter. There was something shiny on the ground close by. Should she risk trying to see what it was?_

_      A scraping noise echoed through the room, and Claire jumped again, avoiding Mr. X. Blood dripped from the cut in her leg as she grabbed a long, orange-and-yellow-and-black striped weapon from the floor. What was it? A rocket launcher? A sub-machine gun? Did it matter?_

_      Claire aimed at the beast hurtling towards her and pulled the thick, heavy trigger. A blue line of electricity shot out from the barrel, knocking her backwards and perilously close to the edge of the platform. Mr. X howled in pain and rage and dropped to his knees. She re-aligned herself with her back to the wall and fired again, and kept her finger on the trigger until only wispy bolts that sounded like static came from the muzzle._

_      Long before the power ran out, Mr. X lay still on the floor, a gaping hole ripped from his groin to his neck. Claire dropped the weapon, barely noticing the block lettering on the side reading 'Spark Shot Weapon – For Use Against Experimental Animals'. Her arms ached from holding the weapon steady, and her leg and hip throbbed mercilessly. She had to get back to Sherry, though._

_      And just as suddenly, she was no longer in Raccoon City, but in Antarctica, with young Steve Burnside dying in her arms. The furious, hulking monster he'd been only moments before was gone, replaced with a dying shadow of a boy. The axe he'd carried fell to the floor. The noise sounded tinny against the Steve's raspy, ragged breathing. Her waist and wrists burned from Alexia's tentacle, but she ignored them and stared, shocked, at Steve's pallid face._

_      "I…I love you, Claire…"_

_      "Steve!? _Steve_!" He didn't answer her, and his head lolled against her hand. Steve was dead. There was no one left to hear her cry, and for the first time in ten years, ever since she'd first gotten into a fight, she cried, her sobs echoing hollowly off the sides of the room._

      Claire sat up in bed, a cold sweat breaking across her brow, panting for breath, her eyes wide with terror. Just a dream, she told herself. It was only a dream. After a very long time, she fell back asleep, and then she dreamed no more, for Mab had halted her livid ride with the sun's first warming rays…

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Dawn broke across the forest outside Paris, shooting lavender and goldenrod arrows through the sky to kill the last few glittering stars. Claire yawned and rolled over in bed, burrowing her face into her pillow to block out the light. She'd been so tired yesterday night that she had completely forgotten to close the blinds, and sunlight was streaming all over her bed. The warm, downy quilt that she'd found in a closet after arriving was plush and soft. It reminded her of the eiderdown her grandmother had before she died. Granny had left it to Chris, who brought it to his various lodgings over time.

      It had blown up with the rest of Raccoon City.

      Groaning, she sat up in bed, realizing she couldn't go back to sleep. It was probably five or six in the morning, and Chris wouldn't be up yet. Jill probably wasn't, either. The heat was off, and the air in the room was still and chilly. It nipped relentlessly at Claire's exposed face and neck. She could stay under the blankets…or get up and turn on the heat. Neither choice was appetizing, but in the end she decided to make a sprint for the basement.

      At break-neck speeds she raced down the first flight of stairs, into the hallway below. She yanked the basement door open and sped down the rough stone stairs. It feels like a freezer down here, she thought as she switched the furnace on and ran back upstairs, shutting the door behind her. She was wearing a heavy sweatshirt and an old pair of Chris's pants, but she still felt cold.

      Claire brewed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, wondering what she should do next. Boredom was an affliction she hadn't really suffered from lately, being concerned with thoughts of Steve and Leon and Ada. The details of her troubled dreams came to her then, and with a sigh she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away. Steve's death wasn't her fault. Why did she keep dreaming of him bleeding out in her arms?

      For all she knew, he wasn't even really dead. Wesker had taken his body away, and they might have revitalized him or something. But that only made her even more uncomfortable. If he was alive, how would she tell him that she didn't love him back? That she was head-over-heels for Leon, and no matter how much he cared for her, she didn't like him that way?

      It would be tough, that was for sure. Claire took another sip of her coffee. It tasted like sludge. With a scowl, she stood and dumped it down the drain. She opened the fridge. They had practically no food. She'd have to go out before the others got here and buy something. After rummaging through the pantry, she came up with blueberry muffin mix and several tins of canned fruit. An idea occurred to Claire, and her eyes lit up. As long as she followed directions, nothing could go wrong, right…?

      In the fridge she found several eggs and in the freezer above it, some frozen bacon. Smiling happily, she set about making breakfast for the household.

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      Jill lay beneath her covers, feeling languid and tired. Had Chris meant what he said? Or did he only mean it as a friend? Had she overreacted? She tossed restlessly, and heard the heat blast into her room through the radiator. Too bad she couldn't _feel_ the heat – her nose felt as it was about to fall off. It was much too early for Chris to be up, so Jill figured it had to be Claire. Maybe she should take advantage of the shower while everyone was still occupied…

      Jill pulled the covers up to her chin and shivered. She wished they could afford to have the heat on all night, but they had to conserve funds. After the Raccoon incident, everyone in the group but Barry had pooled their funds, even Sherry, although Claire absolutely refused to tap into the account, saying that Sherry would need it for college and a real life later on. They had a lot of money between them, even without the girl's inheritance. Sherry, in fact, had the most money; she practically had more than the rest of them combined! Quite the heiress, you might say…

      Barry had left the group, apologizing profusely. But he couldn't leave his family. He'd saved Jill from Raccoon and given as much money as he could to their cause, and offered to do some snooping in the States for them, but in the end, he'd left them. It was only to be expected. Jill couldn't blame him. If she had two kids and a loving husband, she probably wouldn't be freezing out in a ramshackle house, either. Barry would be dropping the others off and immediately returning to Washington state, where his family awaited him.

      Jill's thoughts eventually turned to Rebecca Chambers, the Bravo Team medic. Apparently, Becca had gone through a short period of "puppy love" with Chris after the Spencer Estate…well, who wouldn't? He was hot, she'd admit it, and sweet and nice and funny and smart…and a hundred other things, as well. Just thinking about Chris and Rebecca together made her envious, so she stopped. Chris had been kind but firm, and had rejected Becca's advances as best he could without hurting her feelings.

      Rolling over again, Jill stared at the ceiling, trying as hard as she could not to think. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself down, and instantly sat up in bed. What the hell…!? Was something burning!? Jill leaped out of bed and flung open the door, heading towards the staircase. She took the stairs two at a time and traced the scent to the kitchen, where Claire stood, calmly frying bacon on the stovetop. Jill's mouth opened and closed several times before she regained her composure.

      "Ah…Claire?" Claire turned and looked at Jill. A bright, sunny smile crossed her face.

      "Good morning, Jill! I thought I'd make breakfast for everyone. Eggs, bacon, fruit salad and muffins! Sound good?"

      "Er…Claire, I think the muffins are burning…"

      "Don't be silly," she replied cheerfully. "That's the way the oven always smells. Sit down and I'll make you some coffee." Jill shied back.

      "That's okay, really, I think I'll just go take a shower now, since it's open and all," she sounded nervous and skittish. Then again, near Claire's cooking, who wouldn't?

      "Oh, I understand. Have fun!" Claire called out as Jill raced up the stairs.

      An hour or so later, when she deemed it safe, Jill went back downstairs and found Claire gone. A pile of warm, sugary blueberry muffins sat on a plastic plate in the center of the table, along with a covered bowl of various fruits in a congealing sauce, and a plate of slightly over-done bacon. The eggs were in the trashcan. They looked rubbery. The note on the table informed Jill that Claire had gone shopping, and had taken the truck. She'd be back in about an hour and a half.

      Jill regarded the food suspiciously. If what Chris said was true, then Claire had done an exceptionally good job at preparing breakfast. She loaded a plate with a little of each bit of food, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't too terribly bad.

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      It felt good to be out of the house for a while, away from Chris's watchful eye and Jill's tedious piano playing. She drove into the small town nearby as most of the stores were opening. The time was close to nine o' clock, and the snow had stopped falling. Stepping into the local store, Claire nodded and smiled at the owner, who smiled back, and headed into the depths of the shop. She picked up all the necessities, and a few luxuries, too – some real coffee, for a start, and a couple of candy bars to celebrate the reunion of the group. Today's newspaper was the last little item she picked up. She couldn't read or speak French, but Jill knew some, and Rebecca did too. They could piece together what they needed.

      Claire handed the owner a thick wad of cash, knowing it was too much, and waited for her change. After she received this, she smiled prettily at the owner, leaving him dazed, and left the shop. After loading up the truck, she started it and turned to go back to the mansion. It took about half an hour to get to town, and she wondered idly when the group would reach the house. Chris had said not to expect them before noon, but still, if they got in early…

      It took a short period of time for the heat in the truck to kick in, and Claire was grateful for the blast of air that hit her face, bringing color to her cheeks. Although she was eager to see Leon, Claire especially looked forward to seeing Sherry again. She almost felt like she was the girl's mother, in a way, and wanted to talk with her again, to so how she was. A shadow of a smile crossed Claire's face as she remembered how exuberant Sherry'd been after she'd given the girl her "Made in Heaven" embossed vest, with the angel holding a bomb near the end of its fuse.

      Would Sherry still be the happy girl Claire had left in Philadelphia three months ago?

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      After the groceries were unpacked, Claire retired to the bathroom to get a shower before the others arrived. Chris finally left his room and nearly choked on a muffin when Jill informed him that Claire had made them. She turned a laugh into a cough and busied herself with the French newspaper.

      "Not bad," Chris said. "I'm surprised. I would've thought Claire would burn the house down trying to fry bacon."

      "I thought so myself," Jill admitted. "I came down early this morning and found her cooking and nearly had a heart attack. It smelled like smoke, and I thought something was burning to cinders down here. But it was only the oven. Apparently it does that every time you try to bake something."

      "So that's what smells down here. We'll have to try and fix it up before the others come." He opened the fridge. "And somebody's gone grocery shopping, I see. Was that Claire as well?"

      "Yeah. She wanted to make spaghetti or lasagna or something for dinner. A home-cooked meal for the heroes returning home."

      "You gonna help her?"

      Jill looked up, surprised. "Me? I can't cook at all. I mean, I can't make brownies from the box. They come out all lumpy and stuff." She returned to the paper. Her high school French didn't seem to be helping much.

      "Oh, come on. Think of it this way: you can't get worse than Claire. I remember once, I visited her dorm room, and there was this disgusting mass of cheesy pasta she'd made for me on a plate. I nearly hurled looking at it. And when she left to use the bathroom, I dumped it out the window. I was really rotten stuff, oozing all over the plate 'n everything…" His voice trailed off. "You know, I think the plant it fell on died."

      Jill laughed and threw her untouched muffin at Chris. It bounced off his forehead. "You're full of crap, you know that?"

      "No, really. I'm almost certain it did," he said firmly, catching the muffin. He took a big bite out of it and looked at her. "Really."

      Jill rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Right."

      The sound of a car approaching the house reached the kitchen. Chris and Jill looked at each other.

      "Already?" Muffin crumbs flew from Chris's mouth. Jill pushed her chair away, looking pointedly at the offending particles. He swallowed. "Alright, I'll clean it up." He waited until Jill left the room before sweeping the crumbs off the table and brushing them under a rug. "All done…"

      And then he joined Jill at the door to greet the laughing, jostling group of people approaching the door.


	4. Then They Were Upon Us

A/N: Alright, the gushy part is about to start…everyone arrives at the house, and the festivities start. Carlos starts getting jealous of Chris, which isn't too surprising. Claire and Leon like each other but get cold feet about telling the other. Barry leaves, and for a short time, peace reigns over all…

Chapter 4

      The car had been crowded and, generally enough, driving in it was an unsavory experience. Carlos and Rebecca usually sat in the back, with Sherry between them, while Barry drove and Leon sat in the passenger's seat. But once in a while they'd change. It grew monotonous after the first day of driving, and they had to go through a couple. They decided to go day and night, to save time, so it would only take two days. On the second day, Leon started to get a little bit nervous.    

      How would Claire receive him? Would she still be the same? Would she have changed? Chris said something about a guy named Steve. He'd died, and Claire had been morose ever since. Leon hoped to dear God she hadn't been in love with Steve. That way he still had a chance.

      At about ten forty-five on Tuesday morning, they'd pulled up at a small village for a break. It was only half an hour or so to the house from there, but Leon had been driving and dictated that they would stop and pee and stretch their legs before continuing on. Minutes after arriving in the quiet town, he'd slunk off and bought some flowers. For Claire.

      They were her favorites – gardenias, with some heliotrope for decoration. He hoped she liked them. They were probably out of season in France, and he didn't even know if they were native to France, but he picked out each flower specially at the florist's, making sure they were fresh and smelled nice. The heliotrope gave off a faint vanilla-like scent, and the gardenias smelled like…well, gardenias. They all piled into the car soon after. Sherry had made a scathing comment about the flowers, while Carlos waggled his brow suggestively and Rebecca giggled like an imbecile. Barry was the only one who stayed normal, his face pensive as he started the car as Leon's cheeks turned dusky red.

      The closer they got to the house, the more Leon started to worry. What if she hated him for not being there right after the Antarctican business? What if she hated him, period? He'd never felt this way about anyone, not even Ada. Ada Wong had been a beautiful, intriguing woman, but when it came down to it she was also a lying, murdering thief. After Leon had learned about the finer points of her employment, he'd decided she wasn't what he wanted. Intelligent, yes, gorgeous, yes, risky, yes…but some things weighed more than others, and in the end, Ada just didn't cut it.

      Claire, on the other hand…Claire was more than intelligent, she was calculating and street-smart, she was more than gorgeous, she was as beautiful as Aphrodite, she was more than risky, she was a loose cannon. But besides that, Claire was also compassionate, understanding, sensible, honest…many, many things, and they all made Claire who she was. All kinds of things, things that juxtaposed and made her a paradox unto herself, but they were still a part of Claire.

      Leon was still brooding over this when they drove up. Nervously, he gathered the flowers and opened his door, slowly. Sherry was already racing up to the door, and pounding on the bell, and Carlos was helping Becca out, giving her long, meaningful glances from beneath his thick lashes. Barry was following Sherry's lead and waiting near the door. Leon slammed his door shut and started up the walkway. Rebecca laughed at something Carlos said, and the door swung wide open.

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      Claire rinsed the last of the shampoo out of her hair and frowned. Had she heard something, or was it only her imagination acting up? She pushed her head beneath the shower nozzle one last time, soaking up the warm water, and turned the knob to 'Off'. Standing on her tippy-toes, she looked out the high, narrow window in the bathroom that faced the front of the manor. A car…! So they _had_ arrived! Grinning like an idiot, she threw on a towel and raced downstairs, ignoring the freezing drafts of air that poured over her mostly bare skin.

      She stopped at the base of the stairs, skidding a little on the carpet, and ran for the door, sliding to the stop on smooth wood floor. Chris and Jill were already there, talking to Barry and Sherry. When the girl caught sight of Claire, she let out a shriek and leaped forward, throwing her arms around her mentor. Claire laughed and returned the hug.

      "How you been, Sherry?"

      "The ride here was _horr_ible! Becca and Carlos kept flirting, and Leon was all moody and stuff…! But I'm so glad to see you, Claire!" She hugged her again and stood back, her pale cheeks flushed with excitement. Barry had moved off to the side and was speaking in a low voice with Jill. Chris remained by the door and greeted a young-looking girl who Claire assumed to be Rebecca Chambers. The attractive Hispanic man standing at her side had to be Carlos Oliveira, the self-titled lady-killer. Carlos turned and took in Claire's slender body, wrapped in a towel, and smiled at her.

      "You must be Claire. Sherry's said so much about you." He stepped forward, his hand outthrust. Only Sherry? No Leon? Smiling politely, she shook hands with him and said her hellos to Rebecca, thinking all the while. Where the hell was Leon?

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      One sight of Claire in that towel had been enough to send Leon back to the car. He needed to regroup. It had caught him off guard, seeing her like that. She had no right to look so beautifu, he thought. No right at all! Her wet hair had been hanging down, to the top of her smooth, golden back. Muscular but slim legs, left bare to the winter winds, and her shoulders, huddled in an attempt to keep herself warm…Leon glared at the flowers he held. Claire had no right at all…!

      Finally, he swallowed, hard, and started to walk towards the house again. The door was shut when he got there. He reached for the doorknob, slowly…

      And suddenly the door opened from the inside, and Leon found himself face-to-face with Claire Redfield. For a minute they stared at each other, as if not recognizing the other. Then Claire smiled and threw an arm around his neck, crushing most of the flowers against her chest. After a minute she stepped back, looking him over.

      "Long time, no see, Kennedy."

      He smiled, nervously. "Yeah. You been okay?"

      "Something like that. What about you?" She pulled a mashed petal off her collarbone.

      "Pretty good." There was a long pause as he watched her peel a leaf off her chest, just above the rounded curve of her breast. He took a deep breath, tore his eyes away and shifted his gaze to Claire's face. "Brought flowers. For you."

      She stared at the bouquet, her face blank. Then a slow smile made its way over her face. A dimple flickered in the corner of her cheek. "Really? That's so sweet, Leon." Another uncomfortable silence stretched out. Then Claire shook her head and stepped backwards. "I'm so stupid, leaving you out in the cold. Come in, everybody's probably upstairs, in the parlor." Leon handed her the flowers and walked inside. It was nearly as cold in the hall as it was outside. When he said just that, Claire laughed.

      "Yep. The heat doesn't seem to work on any floor but the second, so that's where we spend most of our time. Follow me." She carefully set the flowers in a tall glass on the table and preceded him up a long flight of stairs to the second floor. Noises and laughter came from a room at the end of the hall. "Go on down there. I'm gonna go get dressed. Be there in a minute." She started to walk away.

      Leon's heart contracted as she walked. Claire walked in such a pretty way. There was some hip in it, but not too much, like some girls.

      "Claire?" His voice sounded deep in the empty hallway. She turned around, smiling a little. "I missed you. And it's good to see you again." It was lame, he knew, but the best he could do. Until he found out more about Steve, anyway.

      "Me too, Leon. I missed you, too." He couldn't see her face, and after a second she was gone. Leon walked into the light of the parlor, feeling better than he had in weeks.

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      What to wear, what to wear…!? Claire rummaged through her closet again. She didn't have many clothes. They couldn't really afford many. But she had to find something to wear! As she dropped the towel and put on her undergarments, she mused over what Leon had said. He'd gotten flowers for her, and said he missed her…maybe Ada didn't mean as much as she'd suspected.

      A second run-through of her clothes brought Claire to a pair of jeans, reasonably clean, and soft, delightfully fluffy bronze-colored sweater. Slipping these on, she fumbled frantically through a suitcase for some socks. Her toes were blocks of ice, and her fingers were pretty close to being the same. After stubbing her toe on the nightstand and bedpost in quick succession, Claire made herself slow down and jerk her socks on. No shoes, because in her present state she'd probably knot the laces…her biking boots looked tempting in the dim light, but Claire decided against wearing them.

      She combed her hair and tied it up in its customary ponytail and looked at her face. She'd seen better days. A light smudge under her eyes, barely noticeable, from bad sleep…again, her nightmare returned to her. At least Leon hadn't been in it. If she had to see Leon _and_ Steve die in her arms, she might go crazy. After a moment's deliberation, Claire slipped on a ring Chris had given her a few years ago on her birthday. It was silver, set with a blue topaz, flanked on either side with a tiny diamond. It must've cost a paycheck or two, and Claire had felt guilty about it at the time. It made her hands look smaller, more delicate, she thought. And it made her feel safer.

      She straightened her sweater and smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her jeans.

      "I can do this," she told herself, and opened her door. A square of yellow light made strange shadows down the hall. Claire stepped inside the room and smiled, taking a seat in an overstuffed chair (literally: the stuffing was bursting the seams at places). Rebecca and Sherry were talking avidly, she noticed. That was good. They might be able to relate.

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      Carlos scanned the room. Finally, all the _chicas_ in a room together, so he could decide which one he wanted! The Redfield girl (Claire, wasn't it?) sat down in a chair. She looked nervous, but very pretty in a brownish sweater that set off her skin tone and hair color. Rebecca was curled up near the fireplace, where a fire was crackling merrily. And Jill was sitting on the couch next to that Chris guy, who was openly admiring her. Carlos mentally kicked him.

      What a stupid man, to think he was worthy of Jill. Carlos, on the other hand, was not only good enough for Jill, he'd have her, too. That thick, chocolate-brown hair, cut at her chin…it emphasized her pointed chin and sloping cheekbones, Carlos realized. Her long, graceful arms and fingers. Musician's fingers, that was it. And she had a very fine figure – the finest of the three women in the room. Her eyes, a chilly, icy blue, were intense and seemed to speak a story of their own.

Carlos believed himself to be very much in love with her.

But then again, that Claire…he imagined her in the terrycloth towel again, her velvety grey eyes wide with anticipation. What had she been waiting for? Maybe for himself, Carlos decided. Perhaps Jill had told her how incredibly hot he was. It was possible. Claire was taller than Jill, if less graceful, but she had this aura of – not danger, exactly, but something like it. That, however, might have been because she _was_ dangerous. With Chris as her older brother, any guy she dated had to watch out. He would probably dismember anyone who dumped his little sis…

And Rebecca. Quiet, adorable Becca Chambers. She had auburn hair, always up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and mocha brown eyes set in an elfin face, complete with tip-tilted nose. A little lacking in the breast department, but that was alright, she still had growing to do. She was really a nice person, and very funny, if young. A little naïve, too, although that could be fixed. Carlos liked her, maybe as more than a friend, but for now he was going after Jill. Or at least making sure Chris didn't get her.

Smiling suavely, Carlos stood and reseated himself next to Jill. Chris greeted him and invited him into the conversation. Carlos happily accepted, wondering why Redfield was being so considerate, and starting to turn on the charm. Jill seemed unfazed by it, but Carlos was too busy gazing at her adoringly to notice.

Eventually, Barry stood and announced his intention of leaving immediately.

"Sorry, really, but I've got to get back to the airport if I want to make my flight. Good luck, all of you." He hugged Jill warmly (Chris and Carlos both glowered enviously) and winked at Rebecca. Sherry promised to visit him and Polly and Moira sometime, and Claire treated him like a favorite uncle leaving on vacation, teasing the big man about getting old. Bags were unpacked from the trunk of the car, and after a few more farewells, Barry climbed into the car and drove off. Everyone trudged back into the house, and Claire insisted on giving everyone a tour of the manor. Jill tried to slip away, but Chris kept a close eye on her, making it impossible for her to leave. And Carlos watched Chris to make sure he didn't slip away _with_ Jill.

A fresh snow started to fall, covering up the new tire tracks on the country road as Claire ushered her tour group into the entrance hall.


	5. Scullery Maid's Knight

A/N: Another chapter! It's a bit short, but this is when emotions (or is it hormones…?) start to fly high. I'm an insomniac, and I had nothing better to do. So I wrote. ^_^ Please enjoy!

(Note: I think the night had an effect on my writing. It's sort of a gushy chapter. Leon and Claire are starting to act on their feelings, but I'm not particularly good with describing love and stuff, so I tried to take it easy. Ignore it if it gets too bad. ~_^)

Chapter 5

      "This is the main hall. We've got heavy coats and winter stuff for you guys already, in that closet over there, and most of our cleaning supplies are in that closet." Claire pointed to the places she spoke of before walking towards one of the doors, the one on the left. "And this door leads to the powder room and a bathroom. But the powder room had a dead cat in it when we bought the house, so it smells really bad. But the bathroom works fine and everything." She crossed the room and went through the door on the right.

      "This," she continued to lecture, "is the hallway that leads to everywhere on this floor, really. Over there is the pantry, through that door is the big dining room, and over there is a sitting room. It's mostly empty now, but there's still this really cool old clock, with the sprigs and coils and pendulums and stuff all visible. I'd show you, but it's freezing and I want to get upstairs really quick." She swept past the room and into the kitchen, decorated with Greek-style tiles on the walls on flooring. "This is the kitchen, as you can see. We're gonna be making dinner soon." Claire beamed happily as she moved towards a dark room nearby. "And that would be the washing room. The washer and dryer don't work a lot of the time, but we don't really have many clothes to wash, so it's mostly okay. And the door there leads to the basement."

      "What's down there?" That would be Rebecca talking. She seemed to be a sweet girl.

      "Just the furnace, and some odds and ends. I'm planning on going down there soon to sort out what we can use and what we should sell. But that's all, really." She moved towards a narrow hallway. "Down there is another bathroom, the bar and the door leading to the backyard. We can go out later. It's really pretty, with all the snow and everything."

      "Claire, how'd you find the house?"

      She looked at Leon. He looked at her. Then she spoke. "Chris heard about it in the village. So we bought it. The guy's mother and father died here, and he wanted to get rid of it. He sold it to us, with all the things in it, for a really good price. It was kind of him, but he said he hated it and wanted it off his hands." She shrugged. "Some people are like that, I guess." They all returned to the hallway near the kitchen and climbed the stairs.

      The third floor held nothing but a master bedroom, a playroom, a library and a study, along with some empty rooms. The attic held more junk, along with a window offering a great view of the forest and a balcony over the once magnificent gardens. They returned to the second floor and were introduced to the parlor, the drawing room and the bathroom.

      "Each room has a bathroom attached," Claire explained in a bossy tone, "but since everyone's going to be sharing rooms, it'll get crowded sometimes." Then she told them where they'd be staying. Carlos, Chris and Leon all in one room ("Because it's easier than setting up the big closet at the end of the hall," Jill sensibly told them) while Jill and Rebecca shared another. Claire and Sherry had the third guest room on the second floor. People started unpacking as soon as they could.

      "What's that you got there, Sherry?" Claire peered a bundle in the small black suitcase. Sherry giggled and pushed it into a drawer, beneath the sailor suit she'd worn in Raccoon.

      "A present, Claire! It's not like I can tell you!" Sighing tragically, Claire rolled over and shrugged in acceptance. She still needed a few more gifts herself. For Rebecca, and Carlos. Everyone else she'd taken care of.

      "Need any help unpacking?"

      "Nope. I got it. But thanks for offering."

      "Sure thing, Sher. If you need anything, come and get me, alright? I'll be downstairs in the kitchen."

      Sherry laughed again. "I might have trouble finding you. The house is so big!" Claire laughed and left the room. There were two beds, each one queen-sized, and each was positioned near a window. They both had long, gauzy canopies and cozy-looking blankets folded on top. And they both got a nightstand and a chest of drawers. They shared the vanity, and Claire had even said she could use half the closet, if she wanted.

      Not that Sherry had much to unpack. That stupid sailor suit, which she'd kept in case she ran out of other clothes, and some jeans and a couple of long-sleeved shirts. An extra pair of shoes, because her plain white sneakers weren't good for every occasion. And then that beautiful navy blue angora sweater that Claire had picked out for her in the department store in Philadelphia, two days before she'd gone looking for her brother in Paris. It was absolutely breathtaking, and warm as well. It was Sherry's favorite thing, besides the biker jacket.

      And then she'd brought a notebook and a pen, and the golden pendant her mom had given her…Sherry was glad Claire had pulled the G-Virus sample from it before throwing the whole thing into the smelting pit. It was all she had of parents' now. That and the picture inside the locket, of her and Dad and Mom when they went to the County Fair near Raccoon City only months before all the bad stuff started happening. Sherry shrugged those thoughts away and slammed the drawer shut. The golden pendant bounced against her sternum beneath her shirt.

      After setting up the few toiletries she had in the bathroom – really only a brush, toothbrush, toothpaste and a headband or two – she started down the hallway to go see Claire and stopped at the top of the staircase. What was that music? She followed the sound and traced it to the drawing room. Or maybe it was the parlor. Sherry didn't know. The door was shut, but the music was beautiful. Who was playing? Not Claire. And not Leon.

      So Rebecca, Carlos, Jill or Chris. She pulled the knob and peeked inside. Jill Valentine, the ex-thief, was playing on the piano. Jill didn't notice Sherry watching wide-eyed in fascination at her playing. After a minute or two, she softly pulled the door shut. Sherry turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Chris towering over her.

      "Um…hello, Mr. Redfield."

      He raised an eyebrow. "Mister? Don't call me that. Just Chris is fine." She nodded nervously. "Was Jill in there, Sherry?"

      "Yeah. She plays really good, huh?"

      "Yeah, she does…the 'Moonlight Sonata'. It's her specialty, you could say." He said it in a weird voice, like he didn't notice she was there any more.

      "Oh. Well, I'm gonna go see Claire. Talk to you later, Chris."

      "Alright, Sherry. We'll go out in the snow later, and dish it out with some of the others. You can be on me and Claire's team. We always win." Chris seemed to snap back to himself. "Alright?"

      Sherry grinned and disappeared down the flight of stairs. Maybe living in a secluded mansion wouldn't be as bad as she'd first thought…

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      Rebecca folded and placed the last pair of underwear into the drawer. Yes, she folded her underwear. Even her mother had teased her about that before. She smiled sadly as she thought of her parents, all the way out in Michigan. When she came to Paris after the incident at Raccoon, she'd told her parents it was because she needed a break, because working in S.T.A.R.S. was much harder than she'd expected. Becca snorted and dropped some socks in next to the stacks of panties and bras and closed the drawer quietly. Working in S.T.A.R.S. was hard, alright.

      She plopped down onto her bed and let out a gusty breath. The window steamed over for a minute before the moisture turned to droplets and slid down the glass pane. And why, oh why, did she have to be roomed with Jill? Valentine had made it very clear she didn't like Rebecca, and now she had to room with her…!? It was because of Chris, she knew. Jill couldn't understand that Chris was only a crush, and nothing more. And one day Rebecca had woken up and felt nothing for him but friendship.

      Becca felt sorry for Jill in a way – she obviously liked Chris, a lot, but she'd never tell him, and he'd never know. They were such a cute couple, too…she gazed out the window, taking in the snowy expanse of the forest. France was beautiful, and she was glad she'd decided to come with the group. They could stop Umbrella together; she knew it. Everyone seemed to be getting along fine, too. Playing idly with the fringe of bangs on her forehead, she rolled onto her stomach.

      Maybe she could go downstairs, and help with dinner. Or take a walk outside. Or read the one book she'd allowed herself to bring (they took up a frightful amount of space in her suitcase), a thick fantasy novel. Thinking about it made her blush a little. She'd been teased about that as well. _"Still reading  books about knights and their ladies, Becca? You're eighteen now, come on! Those things are for delusional nine year old kids."_ That would be her friend Piper, back in Michigan. Rebecca had visited a couple months before her transfer to Bravo Team in Raccoon City. But could she help it if mysterious elves and majestic dragons intrigued her, if she found gryphons and sylphs more intriguing than real life?

      This particular book, from the paragraph on the back and the color illustration on the front, seemed to be about an elfin priestess on the run from a group of cultists out to kill all the elves. The priestess was the last of her kind…just like me, Rebecca realized. The only member of Bravo Team to survive the mansion. She got no pride or satisfaction out of that, only sorrow.

      Becca sat up and stood again, displeased with where her thoughts were leading her. Hooking a loose strand of light brown hair behind her ear, she left the room and made her way to the kitchen, where she was happy to find Claire and Sherry preparing lasagna, green beans, rolls and pie made from dried apples and berries. At least, the ingredients for those dishes stood out on the counter. Claire was actually throwing the desiccated apples at Sherry, who was giggling as she retaliated with berries. They were running around the table, and a pang of homesickness smacked Becca, almost as if it was a tangible blow to the face. It was so much like home, she thought, right before Thanksgiving with all the cousins over…

      Claire tossed one of the larger apple slices at Rebecca, who started and stared for a minute before laughing and throwing a few fruits of her own. In the end, they all leaned against the counter to catch their breath.

      "Claire started it," Sherry wheezed.

      "Did not!" Claire sounded so indignant Becca almost believed her.

      "Did too," Sherry retorted and made a face at Claire.

      "Alright, maybe I did." She looked resentfully at Sherry. "What's my punishment?"

      "Hmmm…" Sherry looked at Becca. "Maybe…you have to wash the dishes after dinner? I'm sure they'll try to stick me with the job, seeing as I'm the youngest. Why don't you…volunteer?" Claire started to pick up the fruit lying on the ground.

      "Okay. I guess it's fair enough. But I'll get you back, just watch," she added. They scrambled around a bit, dumping out the dirty fruit, and started to make everything over again. The lasagna was easy enough. It was pre-made, and all you had to do was stick it in the oven. While it cooked, Becca made the dough for the rolls as Sherry and Claire worked on the pie. The three of them talked as they baked, and Becca found herself feeling a lot better. Claire's next comment, though, surprised her.

      "Would you like to sleep in our room sometime? You know, a sleepover or something? Like when we were little. I used to have so much fun. We're gonna invite Jill too but she'll say no. And it would be so much fun!" Sherry nodded enthusiastically and dumped a cup of berries into the pie crust.

      Rebecca smiled. How many years had it been since she'd slept over at a friend's house? She had never had time for many friends, and once she got to college, the number dropped to zero. Nobody wanted to be friends with the sixteen-year-old college sophomore, after all.

      "I'd love to! It really would be fun!" Sherry and Claire exchanged looks and smiled at Becca. Screw Jill, she thought. Who needs her? As the lasagna cooled on the stovetop, the three girls popped the pie in and watched it bake, a heavenly aroma rising from its golden crust. The bread followed, and they heated the green beans in the old but operational microwave.

      A noisy blowing sound startled the group before Claire recognized it as the heating and laughed, thankful it was on for once. Sherry ran upstairs and bullied Chris and Carlos into setting the table in the dining room and returned to the kitchen, her work done.

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      Dinner was fairly uneventful. Carlos had swallowed a berry whole when he saw Chris refill Jill's glass with milk. A small gesture, but the look that accompanied it spoke far louder than his actions. The announcement that they'd be celebrating Christmas on New Year's didn't cheer him up any. He had to get gifts for a bunch of people he didn't know, now. Well, he didn't have to, really, since no one said he did, but he'd feel bad. He decided to visit the village the next day and buy some stuff. He'd pick up some cheap scents at the department store in town, and shovel them out to the girls. But for Jill, he'd have to find something suitable. Jewelry, perhaps? Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all.

      Carlos smiled, happy that he had everything figured out. Chris couldn't be getting Jill something better than what he would, and before long, he'd have her wrapped around his finger. After the food was finished, everyone sat around, not wanting to be the first to leave. It was Carlos himself who suggested that Sherry do the dishes, but Claire, with an odd look in Sherry's direction, had offered to do the chore instead.

      The table was emptied in a matter of minutes after that.

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      Claire sighed as she stared at the tall stack of dishes next to the sink. They all had to be washed and dried for tomorrow, or they wouldn't have anything to eat on. With a groan she filled the sink with warm, soapy water and plugged it, plunging the first few dishes into its lemon-scented depths. A voice from behind startled her.

      "Want some help?" It was Leon. She bit her lip and turned around. He was close, very close, and he smelled clean, like soap and water and, faintly, of shaving cream. It was intoxicating.

      "Um, yeah, that would be nice." She forced a smile. "Washing or drying?"

      Leon gently edged her away from the sink. "You can't wash. You've got such pretty hands, I wouldn't want them to get ruined with the water." His voice was quiet and soft. But he thought she had pretty hands.

      She took up the dishtowel and waited for him to finish scrubbing the plate he held.

      "Did you make any of the food at dinner?"

      "Yeah. Most of it. Or I helped make it, anyway. Why?" Leon chuckled and looked at her.

      "You really don't know?" She shook her head and rubbed the cloth against the dripping dish in her hands. "The entire household lives in fear of your dreaded cooking, Claire. Chris has told a few people a few things, and those things got around…" He looked at her, his eyes glittering in the light. "I must admit, I am in awe of your culinary talents." Claire flushed an angry red and started to dry the dishes with more force than was entirely necessary.

      "I don't know _why_ he insists on telling people stuff like that. You burn down the kitchen _one time_, and people start saying things…!" She opened a cabinet, standing on her toes, and pushed a stack of dried plates in. Leon laughed again, but it wasn't a bad laugh. In fact, it made her want to laugh, too, and she did exactly that. "I guess it is sort of true, though, huh?"

      "I'm sure that with a little practice, Claire, you'll be the next Betty Crocker." They didn't say much else, until Leon finished the last of the dishes and pulled the plug. He started to rinse out the sink as Claire dried the dishes. Then she stood on her toes again and attempted to push the last of the plates onto the top of an already teetering stack. She was starting to wobble a little when warm, slightly moist hands closed around her waist and held her steady as she secured the plates and closed the cabinets.

      A finger hitched up the corner of her sweater and ran smoothly over the bared flesh of her hip and waist. Claire stood still. Should she tell him now, about how much she wanted to be with him? She opened her mouth to say something, when, suddenly, the hand pulled back and yanked the sweater down again.

      "I'm sorry," Leon said. He sounded out of breath. "I didn't mean - " He stopped quickly, flushed, and continued, "I'm sorry. So sorry. See you later." He went up the stairs like a bat out of hell. Claire waited for his footsteps to disappear before she took a breath.

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      Leon threw open the door to the guys' room, ignoring both Carlos's irate complaints and Chris's questioning gaze. He walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him, and locked it soundly.

      What the hell was _wrong_ with him!? He'd meant to ask her about Steve, for Chrissake, _Steve_, but then she'd had such trouble, and she'd looked so adorable…and then he just couldn't help himself. Leon turned the cold-water faucet on full and splashed his face a couple times, sputtering at the freezing temperature. Switching the faucet off, he stripped down to his boxers and sat on the edge of the bathtub for a minute. She hadn't stopped him. She hadn't even given him an angry, reproachful look. Had she wanted that to happen?

      Leon glared at his brooding reflection in the mirror and stood, unlocking the door and stepping into the room. His roommates regarded him warily as made his way over scattered luggage towards the bed in the corner. Without so much as a goodnight to either of them, he rolled over and fell asleep.

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      Throughout the house, the residents fell asleep, one by one.

      Leon slipped into a light, dreamless rest that had him tossing and turning all night. Chris thought of Jill as Morpheus claimed his mind. Carlos, oddly enough, was thinking of how pretty Becca looked when she smiled at him during dinner as his eyes slid shut. Sherry dreamt of her father and mother, and started to cry as she slept. Rebecca sat for a while, thinking of home, before she lay her head down on the pillow and nodded off. Jill stayed up late, playing her Sonata, before she returned to her room and watched Rebecca's innocent slumber as she, too, drifted asleep. And Claire lay still as the sky became darker and darker, thinking of Leon and what he'd done, and how nice his hand had felt on her skin. She fell asleep and, for once, dreamed only good dreams, of only good things…


	6. The Best Kiss

A/N: I know the 'reconciliation' scene between Jill and lover-boy is a little rushed, but I was getting sick of writing and wanted to get it over with. ^_^ So sorry about that. Moving on…

Chapter 6

      "Hurry up," Carlos called to Sherry, who was still upstairs getting ready.

      "I said, _wait up_! I'll be down in a minute!"

      Seconds later, Sherry flew down the stairs and ran out the door.

      "Carlos! Come _on_!" Rolling his eyes, he followed her. Women – he'd never understand them. Even this little girl had him stupefied. He slammed the door shut and walked through the snowdrifts to the truck nearby.

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      Jill waited until the roar of the motor died away before she left her room. Rebecca, Carlos, Claire and Sherry had all decided to go shopping for a few last minute gifts. She wasn't sure if Chris had accompanied them, but she could hear someone in the kitchen downstairs. Probably Leon. She'd already wrapped and bought her gifts. Jill crept down the hall and into the drawing room, where the piano waited for her. She'd nearly perfected the "Moonlight Sonata".

      Shutting the door softly behind her, Jill walked on padded towards the piano bench and sat down. But she didn't feel like playing just yet. She sat there for a few minutes before standing up and moving towards the door. Maybe she'd play later, she decided. Jill stood, and walked over to the window. The sun was starting to melt a few of the icicles hanging from the rafters, sending tiny rivulets of water down the side of the house. Within a few hours, it would probably be snowing again, and so she decided to take a walk in the woods while it was still nice outside.

      The door to the guys' bedroom was closed, and Jill hesitated for a moment, thinking of how nice it would be for Chris to join her out in the snow…shaking her head, she went down the stairs and into the washing room, where most of her stuff was at the moment. (The washer had decided to work late the previous night, and Jill had taken full advantage of this.) As she was slipping on some gloves, Leon stuck his head into the room.

      "Jill? Where you going?"

      She smiled at him and slipped off the top of the dryer onto the floor. "A walk. I'll be back in a little while." Leon frowned at her.

      "By yourself? It might not be safe. Maybe I should go with you…"

      "No," she replied, shaking her head. "It's fine. I'll be alright."

      "I'm sure Chris would like to go with you." The innocent suggestion brought a scarlet blush to Jill's cheeks, and Leon hastily added, "He said earlier he wanted some fresh air."

      "I'll be fine," Jill muttered and headed for the door. "See you later."

      Outside, the air fairly snapped with cold and vapor poured from her mouth and nose as she let out a deep breath. The door creaked shut behind her, and Jill started towards the woods. The snow was deep, an inch or two below her knee, and it took her a while to get to the shelter of the trees. The snow there wasn't so deep; most of it had caught on the trees above, sending clumps of snow down at unpredictable intervals.

      Her boots crunching on hardened snow, Jill started to follow the dirt path leading into the woods. It was an easy walk, leading to the base of a hill where a large pond sat, frozen over. She sat on a rock near the edge of the forest and leaned back, looking into the clear blue sky. If it got cold again, the pond could probably be skated on. If they could find skates.

      A cloud of smooth, silvery gray drifted across the sky. Gray, the same color as Chris's eyes…Jill frowned and slid her eyes shut to block out the sky. She no longer held doubts about him. She loved Chris, but what was she going to do about Carlos? It was only his pride that kept him after her, and she didn't particularly care if she wounded his ego, but what if it really hurt him? No, it couldn't – Jill had seen the way Carlos looked at Becca. And she'd seen the way Becca looked back, shy but obviously flattered by the attention.

      Jill sat up, opening her eyes. Her forehead impacted sharply with another, and with a repressed yelp of surprise, Jill recognized Chris. She rubbed her forehead, and looked up at him. He was staring down at her, smiling sheepishly.

      "Sorry about that," he started, "but you were lying down, and I thought something was wrong, so I leaned over to check…" Jill smiled back, and Chris's grin grew wider.

      "It's alright. I was thinking about Carlos and Becca." Not entirely a lie. Chris laughed a little.

      "She's a nice girl, not at all like Carlos. But you know what they say – opposites attract."

      "Yeah…" Jill scooted over on the rock so Chris could sit down, and looked at the spot. He didn't even hesitate before sitting. It wasn't a large rock, and there wasn't really enough room for both of them. His arm brushed her own, and the sensation sent a delicious tingling sensation up and down her spine. "He's been acting really strange, though. After we got out of Raccoon, he was really nice, but now…I don't know. Something's different."

      "Jealousy." The word popped out of Chris's mouth before he could stop himself. Jill looked up at him, surprised, and suddenly, something between them changed. They weren't friends sitting on a rock, playing matchmaker for two other friends, but a guy and a girl alone in the woods, waiting for the other to make the first move.

      "Of what?" Quiet, and soft, almost like a breathy whisper…Chris leaned forward, his throat dry. This, he decided, was the moment he'd been waiting for. Jill tilted her head to meet him, and their lips met.

      Later reflection brought Jill to the conclusion that it was the singularly best kiss she'd ever received. There was no tongue involved, but it was the best anyway. Soft and sweet, and Jill had to suppress a shiver of pure, ecstatic delight that raced through her body as Chris pulled away. He smiled a little.

      "Of that, Jill." And then they sat in silence for a minute or two, staring at the lake. Then Chris stood up and pulled Jill off the rock.

      "Why'd you come out here, anyway?" Chris looked at her sidelong.

      "Saw you leaving the house and asked Leon where you were going. Then I followed the trail." Jill smiled. So he really did care. She looked over at the lake, with its thick icy covering.

      "Do you know how to ice skate?" Chris shook his head.

      "Claire does, though. She took some lessons in sixth grade, I think. Maybe it was seventh. Do you?"

      "No, but…you wanna try?" Jill looked up at him slyly. "There are probably some ice skates up in the attic, or the basement. The house is filled from top to bottom with useless crap." Chris shrugged.

      "Sounds good enough to me."

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      Upon arriving in town, the whole group scattered. Claire followed Sherry at a discreet distance, Carlos headed for the wealthy side of town and Rebecca found the nearest bookstore. Carlos was the one to suggest they buy lunch at a restaurant and take it home, but as Sherry set a bag of chicken strips on one of the seats, she spotted a fir tree in the window of a nearby shop.

      "Can't we get a Christmas tree, too?" At first Carlos had been adamant, saying they didn't need a tree, but when Rebecca and Claire backed Sherry up, he didn't have much choice. The only one they could find was a little over five feet tall. It branches drooped, looking scraggly, but all three girls were delighted and they sat in the back of the truck to make sure it didn't fall out the back.

      Carlos, who was driving the truck with only a few bags full of local specialties for company, was a little peeved, but when he arrived home, his pleasant mood returned. He'd bought Jill's gift that day, and it was absolutely exquisite. The house was quiet, until Leon appeared from the kitchen and made a few well-chosen remarks about the tree's condition. Claire made an equally snide remark about Leon's own condition, and disappeared up the stairs, following Carlos into the parlor.

      Chris and Jill were nowhere to be found, a fact that didn't elude Carlos. The tree wouldn't stand up properly, and finally they had to prop it against the corner to keep it from falling. Becca, Sherry and Claire, instantly forgetting their lunch, went scampering into the attic to look for ornaments to adorn their tree with as the back door opened and two smiling figures made their way into the parlor.

      Carlos noticed the new way that Jill regarded Chris, and he felt something inside of him snap. He was losing her, and he was _not _going to give her up to Chris Redfield! Standing, he walked over to Jill and tapped her shoulder, smiling. She smiled back, a little uneasily, and asked,

      "What is it, Carlos? The tree looks…great."

      "I'd like to talk to you, Jill. Alone." She nodded and let him lead her into the drawing room. He shut the door as Jill sat down on a sagging chair near the huge window. Then he turned and advanced on her.

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      Up in the attic, the three younger girls sat in a loose circle, rummaging through an old trunk. A small pile of chests that had already been searched sat to one side. The rest of the attic was filled up with more antiqued items. Sherry was wearing an old hat with several ostrich feathers as she dug through the bottom. A moment later her face re-appeared, and she held out her spoils – an old black-and-white photograph, a thin book with a French title and some coins, rusted and bronzed with time.

      Becca stood and examined a box near a coat rack, sweeping off the thick layer of dust. Inside, a Christmas card covered in glitter winked playfully at her.

      "I think I found something!"

      Sherry was instantly by her side, the ostrich plume tickling the tip of Rebecca's nose. She wrinkled her nose and pulled a thick sheaf of Christmas cards off the top, revealing another, smaller box. Silver and gold glass balls twinkled as Sherry pulled the box out. Beneath it, another box of ornaments – these ones dainty white snowflakes coated with iridescent sparkles – sat in quiet repose. Claire appeared, and picked up the snowflakes as Becca picked up a medium-sized package carefully wrapped in scraps of muslin that had been carefully placed to one side of the ornament boxes.

      After it had been unwrapped, it revealed the figurine of an angel, made of blown glass and little strips of gold here and there. They all took an involuntary breath after the cloths protecting it fell away.

      "It's so pretty…does it go on top of the tree?"

      Becca nodded at Sherry. "I think so. There's a notch here for it." Claire started over towards the door leading back to the third floor.

      "C'mon," she called, "let's go put 'em on the tree!"

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      Jill got a mite nervous when Carlos shut the door, but didn't show it. He approached her and sat on the floor at her feet. It made her more than a little uncomfortable. The feeling deepened when Carlos snatched her hand and held it to his heart. She was getting weirded out.

      "Jill, Jill…!"

      "…Yes?" It was difficult to keep the revulsion out of her voice. Carlos's antics made her want to slap him. Jill drew the line when he started covering the hand he clutched with fervent kisses and she snatched her hand back, fighting the impulse to wipe it off on her pants leg.

      "Oh, Jill, I love you so much! You're everything to me, everything…!" He stared up at her. She shifted uncomfortably. What an unpleasant task she had…

      "Um, Carlos…I have to tell you something…"

      "What!? Anything, Jill, anything for you…"

      "I don't…like you…like that." There was a shocked silence following her words. Carlos stared at her, all the passion drained from his face.

      "But…Jill…" He didn't sound crushed, just…irritated? Not exactly, but close enough.

      "No, Carlos. I love Chris." She leaned forward, and looked him in the eyes. "I think I know what was going on, Carlos. You don't have to prove anything." He continued to gape, and Jill hurried on, afraid that she would lose her nerve. "Rebecca likes you, and you like her, and I think you should give it a try. You're a great friend, Carlos. And I'd love to still be friends, but…not like that. Never."

      She stood, feeling better than she had in days. Jill's mind was clear and clean. Carlos stood as well, and looked her in the eye.

      "Guess you saw right through me, Jill." He sounded sad, and she cast her eyes down for a moment.

      "Yeah."

      "So I guess we'll be friends, still?"

      "Yeah. You think you might try Becca?"

      "She seems nice. And cute. Not as cute as you, maybe…but still cute." He looked at her, and his old smile was back. It seemed that things were going to be fine after all.


	7. For Lack of a Better Name...

A/N: This story's nearing completion…just…one…more…chapter…

The Lion King belongs to…Disney, I believe. And so does the song I mention.

Chapter 7

      Rebecca felt a surge of something like pride as she looked at the glittering Christmas tree. True, the branches were drooping and some of the pine needles appeared to be dying, but it wasn't all _that_ bad. At least, if you looked at it from a certain angle, anyway…she shrugged to herself and glanced at Sherry and Claire. They were both seated on the couch, and seemed happy enough.

      When Carlos and Jill entered the room, Becca looked away hurriedly. On the way to the house, she'd thought that Carlos was interested in her, but since he saw Jill, he didn't seem to care much about Rebecca. It hurt, but she'd get over it. She'd never really expected anything to come out of it, to be honest, since she was so young compared to him…and, of course, what guy would choose little Becca over the beautiful, talented, _mature_ Jill? A twinge of envy hit her, and Rebecca quickly joined in conversation with Claire and Sherry.

      Out of the corner of her eye, Becca caught Carlos whispering something to Jill before leaving the room. Jill smiled and walked over to the couch as the door shut behind him.

      "The tree looks great. Where'd you find all that stuff?" The lump in Rebecca's throat stopped her from replying. Not that she would've anyway.

      "The attic," Sherry piped up. "There's a whole lot of stuff in there. Really old stuff."

      "Did you happen to see any ice skates? Chris mentioned something about wanting to try. There's a pond that's frozen over, in the woods." Suddenly, Becca couldn't stand being in the same room with Jill any more. She had to get out, out and away. She stood and walked over to the door.

      "I don't remember. I'll go check," she said, slamming the door shut behind her. Inside the parlor, Jill frowned and stared after the girl.

      "What's wrong with her?"

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      Carlos started up the truck, a smile on his face. Sure, Jill had rejected him, but what did that matter? Now that he thought of it, Rebecca really was pretty…not in the same way Jill was, but she certainly had something of her own. A short trip to the jeweler's, to return that necklace he'd gotten for Jill, and then he'd pick up something for Becca and head home. If only everything was this simple…!

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      Later that night, as the sun began to set, Carlos decided to make his move. He found Rebecca in her room, reading a book. Actually, she wasn't reading, but Carlos didn't know that. She was staring at the page and thinking angrily about Jill, but at any rate, when she saw Carlos a bright, happy smile spread over her face.

      "Carlos? What're you doing here?"

      "Oh, I thought…maybe you'd like to go down to the pond? It's not so cold out now…" Becca's heart soared, then she checked herself.

      "Is Jill going?" It occurred to her to make her resentment less obvious, and she hastily added, "Or anyone else?" Carlos shook his head.

      "Nope. Just you and me. The others said they wanted to go during the day."

      "I'd love to! Let me get ready, that's all."

      "Alright. See you down in the kitchen, then?"

      "Yeah," came the somewhat muffled reply, as Rebecca was already rummaging through her closet.

      Ten minutes time had Rebecca happily trudging through the snow with Carlos. From the drawing room window, Jill watched and smiled as they disappeared into the woods.

      They didn't talk as they made their way through the silent woods. Already the sun was slipping from its throne, and the moon was gleaming faintly in the sky. It was only when they reached the pond that Carlos worked up the nerve to say something.

      "Rebecca, I have to tell you something." She looked up at him, her eyes trusting. "On the way here, I…well, I know I sort of led you on. I'm sorry." He paused. He watched as she took a step back and stared at him. Her eyes looked like melted chocolate, moist and deep and soft. Carlos took another breath. "And once I got here, and I saw Jill and Chris together, I got to thinking – I wanted Jill so Chris couldn't have her. But Rebecca – I want you because you're…you."

      For a minute, she didn't say anything and Carlos feared the worst. In the fading light he couldn't see the rapturous expression on her face, and her silence began to worry him.

      "Oh, Carlos!" Rebecca threw her arms around him. Carlos, rather surprised, stumbled a little under the sudden weight before managing to steady himself. Of all the things he'd imagined, this was not one of them. He'd never understand women…

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      Claire finished wrapping her last present and stretched out her aching muscles before standing and picking up the stack of wrapped gifts on the bed. It had taken her a few hours, but they were done. And Chris couldn't make any rude remarks about the way they looked, either – all the bows were on straight, and they looked nice enough.

      As she set them under the tree, Claire heard Sherry's light footsteps outside the door, followed by another, heavier set of footsteps she couldn't identify. Sherry laughed, and the patter-patter of her feet on the floor faded away. Claire shoved the last gift under the brittle branches of the makeshift Christmas tree and stood, pleased with the way they looked.

      Still smiling, she turned around and started towards the door. Claire halted mid-step when she saw Leon standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. How long had he been watching her?

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      Jill sat down at the piano bench and readied herself to begin playing. She'd barely started the opening tune when Sherry burst into the room, followed by a chuckling Leon who chased her in circles around the room. Jill frowned and watched disapprovingly as he ran the girl around the room.

      "Stop it, you two! You're acting like little kids!" They both stopped and looked at her with mischievious smiles lurking at the corners of their mouths.

      "Yes, Jill. Sorry, Jill. Won't do it again, Jill." Leon elbowed Sherry lightly, sniggering, and Sherry laughed. Then she turned and ran away, and Leon chased her out the door again. Jill shook her head. They were so immature. Like little kids or something. With a shrug, Jill started to play again – it was one of her favorites, a song from an old Disney movie.

      "Akuna matata…"

      Leon, meanwhile, continued to race after Sherry, who was more elusive than he'd been led to believe. And fast, too. Once she started school again, he'd have to see about getting her on the track team. Or was she too young for that yet? Sherry was what, twelve, thirteen? She'd be starting high school soon enough.

      Finally, Leon stopped, panting, as Sherry giggled and ran off into her room, clutching her prize to her chest – the last cookie in the package. Leon glanced into the parlor nearby, and did a double take when he saw Claire's back as she pushed a present beneath the tree. He folded his arms, intrigued, and watched as Claire stood, her graceful back arching as she stretched it out.

      The expression on Claire's face when she turned and faced him made up his mind. He needed to tell her everything. And she needed to tell him some things, too. She swallowed, and her eyes flitted nervously from side to side.

      "Didn't see you there, Leon," she said, accompanied by an anxious laugh. Leon unfolded his arms and walked forward, shutting the door quietly.

      "Claire – we need to talk."


	8. Au Clair de la Lune

A/N: No, the title has nothing to do with Claire Redfield. (It's French for 'to the moonlight'. Symbolism, and all that.) And Hotaru, _I_ can't make brownies from the box, either. I can't make anything, for that matter. Anything. I think I don't mix it well enough. Or maybe I use the wrong kind of pan. At any rate, anything I try to make comes out lumpy, crunchy, burnt or soggy. (I still remember the first batch of Jello I tried to make; it came out chewy. Gross.)

Last chapter! If you liked this story, read my prologue to it, 'Dragonfly'. ^_^ It's short, don't worry. Anyway, thanks for reading…and reviewing…and…I will return (mwahaha) with another story soon! And…ah…the ending wasn't all I hoped it would be. So…if you don't like it…you're not the only one…

Chapter 8

      In her room the next night, Claire let out a deep breath as she thought about the previous day's discussion with Leon. Or, rather, the lack of one. Leon had started to ask her something when Sherry burst into the room, screaming about a rat in the bedroom. Leon went to check it out, and in his absence Claire hid in the drawing room until the room was clear. And then she'd kept to that room for the rest of the night.

      Why was she running? It wasn't like she had something to hide from him or something. And she felt horrible for Sherry, who had quickly caught on to the fact that Claire and Leon were having a serious discussion and tried to leave quietly – but Leon followed up on her complaint, leaving Claire alone in the parlor. As Claire slid a red sweater over her head – after all, they _were_ celebrating Christmas that day – Sherry walked into the room.

      The little girl blushed painfully and walked, her head tilted towards the floor, over to her bed.

      "Sherry?" Sherry looked up, her cheeks flushing even redder, and then turned to look out the window.

      "Yeah, Claire?"

      "It's okay, about yesterday. Leon and I were just talking, that's all." Sherry laughed – almost bitterly.

      "Right, Claire." Sherry lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't see why you guys are being so strange about it. I mean, you both like each other. You don't have to freak out so much, Claire."

      Claire whirled around to look at the girl. "Excuse me?"

      "You heard me. You two need to get together. It's starting to bug me, the way you act so weird around each other. Just go out, already!" Claire watched, speechless, as Sherry stood and walked out the door, rolling her eyes. "I'm serious, Claire," she added as she slid the door shut.

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      Leon sat in the still and silent basement, fiddling with the wrench he held in his hands. He loved to work on machines and the like – it always calmed him down, helped him relax, even. Only today, it wasn't working. He was trying to fix the heating system, but every time he turned a screw, he'd see Claire's face, imagine what would've happened if Sherry hadn't burst in on them.

      Not that he held anything against Sherry. Well, maybe he was a little annoyed with her. He'd finally gotten Claire alone, and she just _had_ to came racing in. And about rats, of all things. With a sigh, he turned back to the control panel before him and lifted his hand. Leon paused…did the door to the basement open…? Or was he imagining things?

      The sound of footsteps echoing off the stone steps bounced around the room, and Leon turned, frowning, to see who it was.

      "Leon? You down here?" Claire. Claire was coming to see him. Hastily, he wiped his face on his sleeve and turned around. She looked beautiful – as usual – as she cautiously stepped over a pile of discarded gears and made her way over to him.

      "Um, Claire, hi…" She sat down on a cardboard box next to his chair and looked at him, looked right into his eyes. A square of moonlight from the narrow window above her head illuminated her face and made her eyes glitter like a well-cut gem.

      "Leon, you were right yesterday. We need to talk, and I've been avoiding you. But not because I don't like you, okay? You've gotta see, I've been…a little upset, about this guy, back at Rockfort."

      "Steve…?"

      She glanced at his face. "Yeah, Steve. Steve Burnside. He…he said he loved me, Leon."

      "Did you love him back?" She swallowed. Leon felt his heart stop for a minute, felt his pulse slow down, and it seemed almost as if Time was waiting for Claire to make her choice: Steve…or Leon.

      "…no." The blood pounded in Leon's ears, so loud it almost drowned out Claire's next few words. "But we were friends. Like you and me, back in Raccoon. I don't really know how to say this next part, Leon, but…" She reached forward and took his greasy hand in her own smooth, soft one before continuing. "…I'd like us to be…more than just friends. If that's okay with you…"

      Claire looked anxiously at him, hoping to find a clue to his feelings in that open, charming face. Leon threw back his head and laughed, enveloping her in his strong arms.

      "Claire…there's nothing I'd like more!"

*****************************************************************************************************************************

      Chris checked the clock on the wall and looked around the room. Everyone was there…except for Leon and Claire. Carlos was muttering sweet nothings to Rebecca on the couch, Sherry and Jill were playing a modified game of hearts and Chris was pacing back and forth, waiting for the others.

      "Alright, that's it. I'm going to go find those two," he muttered, and started towards the door.

      "Make sure you don't…walk in on anything, Chris," Sherry called, and laughed a little. Chris thrust his head back into the room.

      "What was that?"

      "Oh, nothing…" She laughed again and played her next card. Jill swore vehemently and glared at Sherry, who smiled amiably in response. Chris frowned and left the room, deciding to start from the bottom up. The kitchen, the dining room, the useless room…all empty. The door to the basement was slightly ajar, and Chris remembered Leon going down there earlier to fix the furnace. Laughter drifted up the stairs from the bowels of the basement, and with a grimace Chris started down the stairs.

      There was absolutely _nothing _he hated worse than unpunctuality, and Leon was a _police officer_, for God's sake, he should _know_ better…!

      When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Chris came to an abrupt halt, his face a mask of horror. Was that _Claire_…!? No, his little Claire-Bear was too young for that kind of thing…! He beat a hasty retreat upstairs and waited a minute, catching his breath.

      Then he started down the stairs again, making as much noise as he could, and cleared his throat loudly.

      "Er, Claire, Leon, is that you? We're waiting for you guys upstairs." Claire turned around as Leon wiped a spot of lip gloss off his cheek and stood to greet the bashful Chris.

      "Hey, Chris, we're starting already?"

      "Erm…yes…" Leon turned towards Claire and smiled.

      "Guess we better go up then, huh?" He headed up the stairs. "Wait 'til you see what I got you!"

      Claire chuckled and went to stand next to Chris.

      "He acts like a little kid sometimes, you know…" Chris looked around the room to avoid his sister's inquisitive gaze. Suddenly, she laughed again. "Chris, it was very sweet of you not to interrupt us. I really appreciate it." She stood on her tippy-toes and planted a sisterly kiss on his cheek. "I love you, you know that? I'd never make it without you."

      And with that, she trotted up the stairs after Leon. Chris stood for a moment, with a little smile on his face as he watched her go, no longer caring if any of them were late. Claire had given him anything he could've wanted for Christmas – and a bit more, too. Claire was happy, he was happy, Jill was happy…and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

      Umbrella wasn't going anywhere, Chris decided, and he could wait a day or two to have some fun with friends and family. Christmas only comes but once a year, he thought happily as he shut the basement door. Why not enjoy it while it lasted?


End file.
